


Made Me Feel (Shiny and New)

by jazzypizzaz



Series: touched for the very first time [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Sex, Forced Eye Contact, Light D/s, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, romantic gooey smut, spite sex disguised as romantic sex but really it's a double bluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:58:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9850550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: Quark wants a jealous Odo to “punish” him, sexually.  Odo complies by doing the opposite of what Quark expects.  It culminates in a blissful puddle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts/ideas from several posts, I think originally fluorescentbrains. Also a couple people expressed interest in writing to this same general prompt, and PLEASE DO. I would read a hundred fics on this same theme tbh.
> 
> Special thanks to [EldritchTribble](www.eldritchtribble.tumblr.com) for the heroic task of beta-ing.
> 
> Warnings: brief allusions to unsafe BDSM (not shown and not w/ this ship), also Quark has terrible self-worth that probably should get a warning

“Quaaaaark!”

 

A voice rattles down the habitat ring hallway, preceding a rigid figure as it marches around the corner.

 

“Well hello, Odo, what can I help you with?” Quark simpers, voice dripping with false innocence.  He turns around to face the incoming constable.  He drops his hand from the door panel, then makes a show of glancing back and forth down the hall.  “What are you doing here?  Why, if I recall correctly, _your_ quarters are on…the floor above this one, right?   _Directly_ above mine?”  Quark claps his hand over his mouth, dramatically.  “Is there...a dangerous criminal loose, about to hunt me down?  Should I install extra security codes on my door, or--”

 

Odo stomps his way into Quark’s personal space, growling and cutting off Quark’s flippant questions.  

 

“Quark!  What business did you have with that-- that freighter captain?”  Odo lunges closer, so that Quark backs up further, now trapped between an implacable barrier and the wall.

 

Quark’s heart pounds in his chest.  This is the closest Odo has been to him in days, and his body is responding accordingly.  The climate controls suddenly seem like they’re approaching Terok Nor level heat; Quark could almost smell the raw ores being pounded into submission in 50-degree C heat.

 

“Wha--” Quark gulps and collects himself, letting a rakish smirk slide onto his lips.  “Captain Yates, with my shipment of root beer and Aldebaran whiskey?  If you have a problem with her, I’d recommend taking it up with the Captain Sisko--”

 

“No,” Odo snaps.  The low reverberation of the word, expelled near inches away, pounds through Quark’s lobes.  “The Boslican.  With the purple hair, who was…”  Odo twitches his face in a pained expression and gestures towards Quark’s head.  His lobes, to be exact.

 

Quark blinks up at him in surprise for a moment, then raises his browridge in exaggerated realization.  “Oh, _Rionoj_!  The delicious female who was in the bar when you stalked in yesterday?  The one with the nimble fingers who always has the good sense to stroke my lobes while negotiating business?  What a pleasure she is, I can’t possibly think that--”

 

“ _Yes_ , that one,” Odo spits out, irritated.  “The cargo in her ship’s manifest contradicts the weight calibration in the docking bay by point zero two kilograms.  I need to know what kind of illicit goods she off-loaded on you, during your... ’negotiation.’”  Odo looms forward, fisting his hand in Quark’s shirt, and Quark backs up against the wall.

 

He’s sure that if the constable were human, his face would be green with jealousy.  Proverbially speaking at least; Quark never could quite figure out that colloquialism.  As a Changeling of course, Odo could in fact turn green if he wanted.  A vague image of Odo as an Orion slave girl flits through Quark’s mind, and he licks his lips.  

 

“Same old.  Bits of this, bobs of that.”  Quark whinges, trying to keep his cool even as his lobes tingle in anticipation.  If Quark plays this right, he might get a bit more than a smuggler’s hasty ear-rubbing out of this entanglement.  “Why, Odo!  You’ve never been so concerned with her _cargo_ before.  Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that’s just an excuse to bother an innocent bartender just trying to go to bed, and a poor one at that.”

 

Odo scoffs, but several emotions flit past his face, including a slight panic.  Quark can feel the subtle movement of the liquid within Odo’s smooth hand from where it rests pressing against his chest.  Quark holds his breath and wonders idly if Odo can feel his quickened heartbeat.  His body hasn’t forgotten a single mind-blowing stroke of Odo’s shifted tentacles during their previous encounter, and is now acting out in anticipation.

 

Of course, if Quark were to leave this up to Odo, with the constable’s general hesitation to use shifting for pleasurable benefit, the best orgasm of Quark’s life might not have happened.  He has been waiting for another opportunity to help Odo along again to the conclusion Quark has already reached, and here it is.

 

“Are you sure you aren’t...letting emotions cloud your judgement?  That’s very unprofessional for a security officer.”

 

“How _dare_ \--”

 

Odo leans further into Quark’s space, until his solid frame is half-pressed against Quark’s.  Their noses actually touch as Odo glares down at him.  Quark has been trying to play it smooth, but with physical contact his body chooses this moment to react in an unequivocally aroused manner.  

 

“Let me spell it out for you.  You’re jealous of Rionoj and where her fingers were.  You --- ahh ahh --”

 

It’s when a slight gasping moan escapes from Quark’s lips -- as Odo’s thigh presses against Quark’s disobedient lower member -- that Odo cuts off his exclamation.

 

Odo’s eyes widen, though his angry expression doesn’t otherwise lighten, and he continues glowering at Quark as if unsure what to do with this new information.  Quark, sweating with excitement, attempts what he hopes is a sultry smoulder.

 

“You -- You wish you were the one stroking my lobes, but let’s face it; you couldn’t seduce a Risian with a latinum-filled Horga'hn.”

 

“Or a perpetually frustrated Ferengi, unsatisfied yet again, swindled out of his day’s profits by a woman who still won’t go to bed with him.”  Odo smirks.  “Is that what you’re getting at?”

 

Quark frowns, but the tingling in his lobes help distract him from the unfortunate truth in those insults.

 

\---------

 

Twenty seconds later, Quark lies pinned to his bed by an intensely focused Odo, whose hands roam everywhere on Quark’s eager quivering body.  

 

Odo’s two normal, humanoid hands, unfortunately.  As nice as those are, perhaps Quark can coax more exciting appendages from him.

 

“I was -- ah -- beginning to think -- ohh yeah oh -- that I had imagined that night,” Quark gasps out.  “You, the tentacles -- ahhh there right there -- I thought maybe you were content -- oohhhh -- to pretend it never happened.”

 

“Just like any one of your insipid casual encounters,” Odo growls, far too collected and grumpy compared to Quark’s aroused ecstasies.  There’s a bitterness lacing his voice that Quark isn’t sure what to do with.  “Pretending it means nothing more than a few extra slips of latinum.”

 

“For me or her?” Quark jokes, but Odo isn’t amused.  If only Quark could wipe that stern concentration from Odo’s face, replace it with the soft bliss he had been able to draw out the previous evening.  

 

And tentacles.  

 

The tendrils of a dazzling idea worm their way into Quark’s brain, then tumble out of him in an excited jumble of words.  “You could -- you could punish me!  If you’d like.  In fact, I insist -- you might feel better.  Sexually I mean, not arrest me.  Unless -- you’re into that -- oh, _handcuffs--_ ”

 

“Punish you?”  Odo, who had been moving his smooth hands from Quark’s lobes to unclasp his jacket and shirt, excavating for more flushed skin, pauses.  “So you _were_ buying illicit goods off that freighter captain.”

 

“No!”  Quark denies automatically.  He did, well only _technically_ (defining what she pawned off on him as “goods” seems like a stretch), but that isn’t the point.  He grasps Odo’s hands and puts them back on his lobes.  “This is, uhh, the next part of your lessons.  On how to have humanoid sex.  Reward and punishment; roleplaying can be an essential component.   _You_ will play the possessive, jealous security officer--”

 

“I _am_ a security officer,” Odo says stiffly.  Quark notes he doesn’t deny the rest.

 

“Yes, exactly!  Now you’re getting into it.  You can be the security officer, interrogating me about my nefarious crimes--”

 

“So you _were_ buying stolen Andorian artifacts from--”

 

Only if you called a pile of frozen trash, or “midden” as she had called it, _artifacts_.  

 

Quark waves his hand.  “No no of course not, it’s part of the scenario -- we’re pretending.”  Really the biggest crime had been how much latinum Rionoj was able to extract from him for what amounted to useless junk, yet again, but that was beside the point.  “Like a holonovel, but in the bedroom.  And then you take out all your frustration with me for consorting with smugglers and having their delicate fingers on my body.  You can hurt me.  Sexually.  It’ll be fun.”

 

“You _want_ me to punish you?”  Odo says, eyes wide in growing alarm.

 

“ _Yes_.  It’s a common enough erotic practice -- when pain becomes pleasure.  We’ll both enjoy it, I promise.”  

 

Quark hadn’t, when engaging in similar scenes with men previously, but this time will be different.   _Odo_ is different.  If their last encounter was any indication, Odo is a natural at getting Quark off, despite his lack of innate humanoid sexuality.  He did things Quark had not even imagined possible, and Quark prides himself on an _extensive_ erotic imagination.  

 

“You’ll be the one in charge, and I have to do whatever you want, as part of my punishment.  Now, I would suggest first that you shift a bunch of tentacles, and use them as bondage ropes--”

 

“You said I would be the one in control,” Odo interrupts, still looking distinctly perturbed at Quark’s explanations.  

 

“So you’ll do it?”  Quark lights up.  He hastily starts removing his jacket; he’d rather avoid the dry-cleaning bill if this goes as well as he hopes.  “Great!  Wow… okay, so don’t be afraid to really go at it okay?  I’ve had worse that whatever you’ll dish out as a first-timer, I promise.  But if it’s too much I’ll say ‘charity’, because _nothing’s_ a bigger turn off than _charity_ .  There _was_ this one time that a Cardassian glinn -- you wouldn’t know him -- thought it would be funny to ignore that, but I know you’ll follow the rules.  I wouldn’t want any lingering damage to interfere with my profits, for example.”

 

Odo stares at him pensively for a long moment while Quark talks, and Odo’s face softens from alarm to something vaguely resembling tender worry, perhaps even pity.  Odo has had marked improvement in mimicking humanoid facial expressions over the years, but right now Odo is clearly mixing concern and compassion with arousal.  

 

This along with the prolonged silent eye contact is making Quark squirm.  "Do you know what your face is doing?  You're going to scare off future lovers looking like that if you don't learn --"

 

“Yes, I’ll do it,” Odo interrupts, resolute.  "But you have to follow your rules and say your word if you don't like what I do."  Quark nods frantically, quivering with excitement.  

 

Odo doesn’t waste time in taking charge, pushing Quark to lie prone on the bed, climbing over top of him.  Which is nice, Quark enjoys the weight of a solid (so to speak) body pressing down on him.  However, Odo then starts to kiss Quark like Bajorans and Humans do, lipless mouth moving against his as if trying to slurp tube grubs out from behind his tongue.  

 

“Non-Ferengi have such gross habits,” Quark mutters against Odo’s mouth.  

 

Odo harrumphs and the kisses become slower, more careful, as if Odo is drawing it out just to spite him.  Figures.

 

Kissing instinctually still seems like the first step towards a predator devouring him, so despite the gentleness of Odo’s nonexistent lips, Quark concentrates on that feeling of danger inherent in the action.  Even if Odo doesn’t follow through on the concept of erotic sadomasochism, Quark can still make this work in his favor, hopefully.

 

Odo moves one hand back to stroking Quark’s lobes.  The light caresses are not quite enough to be satisfying and neither is Odo’s languid tongue.  Together, however, they combine to be even more frustrating, stoking a yearning want in Quark.  Desire courses through him until he’s gasping for air.  He thrusts his tongue to entangle with Odo’s, kissing harder despite himself, and now he can begrudgingly understand what Bajorans like about this.  

 

He begins rocking against Odo, desperate for friction.  A tingling heat flows through him, out from his lips, around his lobes, down to pool in his groin with growing need.  Odo’s continued slow gentleness is infuriating.  This isn’t happening fast enough, it’s not enough, not nearly enough, so Quark reaches between them, groping around for his partner’s crotch out of habit -- even though whatever Odo has decided to shift into his pants isn’t any more erogenous than the rest of his mimicry of a humanoid body.  Quark, however, isn’t thinking of anything except trying to hurry this along.

 

“Now, now,” Odo says, grasping Quark’s wrists and pinning them against the bed.  He chuckles with a fondness Quark cannot explain.  “We’re going to take this slow.”

 

“That’s better!  Constraining my movement, good.”  Quark writhes underneath him, panting as he tests the limits of Odo’s firm grasp.  “Now, dig into my skin.  And -- you should be rougher.  Pinch me until my skin bruises.  Hold me down until I can’t breathe.  Just a suggestion.  Twist my arms over my head past where my shoulders should be able to pivot.  You could tie me up with your tentacles, so that I couldn’t escape if I wanted to--”

 

“Do you want to?” Odo whispers into Quark’s ear, and with the low reverberations tickling his inner ear hairs Quark momentarily forgets his train of thought.

 

“Ahh -- oh -- right, no no I’m good right here.  But it’s supposed to be punishment.  I’m supposed to suffer for my sins.  You could slap my face at least -- Natima never had a problem with that, as you know, and Grilka --” Quark lets out a low whistle. “-- let me tell you about Klingons.  Now _there’s_ a species that knows passion.  I broke four ribs and had more bruises than I could count, but it was _worth_ it.  She was a goddess, that one.  But _shapeshifting_ , there are so many possibilities!  You could --”

 

“I’m not shifting tentacles for your amusement Quark.”  

 

“But last time --”  

 

“In fact, I’m going to be humanoid the whole time.”  Quark will never understand why Odo chooses to be overly sensitive about his gifts, rather than embracing their limitless possibilities.  “And you’re going to like it.  That’s your punishment.”  Odo smirks at him, a bracket of smug amusement at Quark’s disgruntlement over this proclamation.

 

“But--”

 

Odo disappears his own clothes, leaving Quark speechless.  Quark drools a bit at the heavenly vision of acres of weirdly smooth beige skin, a disconcertingly ripped six pack of abs, and a large, realistically shifted Human-like boner.

 

“Wow, you have been doing your research.  I still prefer the tentacles, but if this is what you want--” Quark licks his lips and reaches down, intending to run his finger along the protruding vein on the underside of Odo’s “dick” -- a nice detail, for someone who doesn’t have blood flow -- but Odo bats his hand before it reaches its goal.

 

“No.  You don’t get to touch me until I say so.  You’re going to position yourself exactly as I tell you to, not because I’m twisting your arms or tying you up, but because you _want_ to do everything I say.”  

 

Deflated, Quark retracts his hand with a frown.  “So now the student becomes the master.  And here I thought I was doing you a favor, teaching you how not to be a mundane prude.  But if you want to be boring and fail, I guess that’s a lesson you’ll have to learn first-hand.”  

 

Quark sighs a put-upon sigh.  He should have known that the beige uptight man would want to have beige uptight sex, but the wild events of the other evening had inflated his expectations hoping for a redux.

 

Odo, still smirking infuriatingly, gestures towards Quark’s cloth-covered body.  “Next order of business is that you take off all your clothes.”

 

Quark’s heart skips a beat, and he blinks a couple times.  That’s usually a no-go for him, but with Odo he might be willing to go through with it.  Quark eyes Odo’s tantalizing naked form, wary that if he refuses to play along, Odo is likely to pack up.  

 

“Well well, going straight for humiliation then?  Natima was into that -- mind games, that one-- okay okay, good, I can work with that.  Sure.”  Quark tries to imbue his voice with acerbic deprecation, flailing to gain the upper hand, but judging by Odo’s stupid smug face he doesn’t quite succeed.

 

Quark takes a couple deep breaths, then starts peeling off layers.  With each barrier to his body removed, Quark feels naked in a new way, as if Odo can see right through him.  Rising panic flutters like a trapped moth in his chest, and Quark focuses on stealing glimpses of Odo’s sumptuous erect member, his hopeful reward.

 

“Now lie down on the bed.”

 

Naked and subordinate as a female, Quark meekly follows directions before it occurs to him to come up with a properly annoyed complaint.  He screws his eyes shut as Odo runs his hands gently over Quark’s bare body.  Odo catalogues the texture of each fleshy wrinkle and lump of his torso, face, limbs, and the tender concentration underlying Odo’s smooth touch sends a skittering buzz through Quark’s nerves.  

 

Something soft and hopeful threatens to emerge from deep within him, and Quark squirms, self-conscious under this silent investigation, unsure of the verdict and worried that he might be left wanting.

 

“This is nice and all--” Quark’s voice comes out small and shaky, so he clears his throat and tries again.  “But this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”

 

“I have no intention of implementing what you had in mind,” Odo says.  There’s a darkness in those words that runs contrary to his gentle hands.  "Say your word if you don't like it."

 

“Leave it to you to find the most frustrating, least satisfying foreplay,” Quark pouts, even while Odo’s tender attention sends blood pounding through his lobes, pooling in his groin, hot and urgent.  “Can we just fuck already?  I’ve basically been thinking of nothing else since you had your tentacle inside me, and if you’re not going to punish me like I want, can we just get this over with?”

 

“I am punishing you.  Patience.”  Odo smirks, the prick, then glides his hand down over Quark’s stomach.  Quark gasps as it tangles it into his folds -- slick with desire down below -- and with a gentle pull Odo circles his hand around Quark’s aching sentinel, waiting upright for this moment.  

 

A high keen escapes from Quark, unbidden, and Odo collects Quark’s wetness between his fingers.  He pulls several more times, and each stroke is a jolt of lightning radiating out from Odo’s touch to stimulate all the surrounding nerves.  

 

Quark moans again, wantonly, wanting more, _needing_ more, bucking against Odo’s touch desperately, and once Quark is twitching with electricity, finally _finally_ , Odo slips a finger lower.  

 

“Aahh, ahh!  Okay okay.  You can stick it in there already.  Why are you so _slow_?”

 

But Odo continues taking his damn sweet time, despite Quark’s litany of complaints.  Odo runs his slick finger around Quark’s rim in maddening circles.  As he gradually works his way to inserting one shifted-smooth digit into Quark’s tight entrance, that fluttering panic resurfaces in Quark chest.  

 

“Good, harder.  I said harder!  Hurry up, Odo!”

 

Odo is going about this all wrong, adjusting each touch according to Quark’s reactions, like that’s the point of all this.  Like there’s nowhere else Odo would rather be right now.  Like there’s nothing else Odo wants, but to watch Quark writhe and gasp underneath him.  Like the physical connection building between them is the goal in itself, and not a means to an end.  

 

Not like Rionoj who Quark is fully aware only gives oo-mox to get a better deal out of him, a transaction he giddily embraces.  Not like the Cardassian glinns and guls who just wanted a quick fuck in their tedious days of corralling Bajorans.  Even Natima had only wanted sex with him as a distraction from her conflicted life.  She might deny it on principle, but Quark knew better.  

 

But Odo -- his archenemy, his station nemesis, the constable whose only personal interactions have been in the pursuit of justice -- what was Odo’s motivation in drawing this out longer than it needed to be?

 

“You’re so tight,” Odo says softly, and every time Quark tries bucking against him, he goes slower.

 

“Please, just fuck me.  I’ll loosen up once you get going.  Don’t worry about it.  Please, get on with it, I can take it,” Quark whimpers in a strained whine, but Odo shakes his head.  “I’ve done this before, you know, unlike _you_ I might add, and no one else does this.  No one else is so frinxing _slow_.”

 

Despite Quark’s frustrations, Odo’s careful ministrations make the electrified want fizzing through Quark feel like pure latinum.  Odo touches him like Quark would a gold-plated Hebitian faberge egg (worth a whopping thirty bars of latinum if you had the right connections), and it’s confusing, and Quark can’t figure out what Odo -- who had never shown any interest in such frivolous humanoid occupations before -- is getting from this.

 

Even while in a state of delicate ecstasy, Quark can’t help but fret about how disappointed Odo will be with how boring regular sex is.   

 

Odo will end up leaving this encounter unsatisfied.  Then, he’ll likely channel his pent-up frustrations -- with Quark for talking him into this, with himself for failing to mimic normality -- into an even colder persecution of Quark’s livelihood.  This whole affair will only lead to further resentment... Or worse: Odo’s previous obsession with Quark’s honest business affairs will instead shift to complete disinterest, and if that happens Quark doesn’t know how he will cope.

 

The only conclusion Quark can draw is that Odo is doing this purely to spite him, to coax out Quark’s soft heart so that he can stomp on it better later.  

 

Leave it to Odo to find the most sadistic way to punish Quark for being undeserving of true affection.

 

“This is terrible.  I hate this and I hate you,” Quark whines, as Odo finally finally scissors a second digit into him.  He clenches around Odo’s fingers.  

 

“If you don’t want to fuck me, just say so and leave.  I can find someone else, anyone else,” Quark moans, as Odo slowly gently opens him up so that the entire world disappears to the single point of contact between the Changeling and himself, one molten point of ecstasy that is now the only thing holding Quark together.

 

“The least -- ooh -- you could do is -- ahh -- ” Quark gasps, as Odo retracts his fingers at long last, leaving Quark open and clenching around nothing. “If you’re not going to slap me, at least insult me a bit, some dirty talk.”

 

During this act, Quark had kept his eyes shuttered, and when he opens them Odo’s face is so soft -- his liquid eyes gazing at Quark with such wonder -- that something hard and brittle breaks within Quark, soft warmth flooding within his chest.  

 

As Odo lines himself up with Quark, Quark turns his head into a nearby pillow to hide the naked vulnerability on his own face.  Odo cups his cheek and forces eye contact.

 

“Look at me.  I want to see you.”

 

“I can’t. I don’t want--”

 

“Open them.”

 

“-- to look at your hideous face --”

 

“Look into my eyes.”

 

“I can’t don’t make me I can’t,” Quark whimpers, not really aware of what he’s saying.

 

“Open them, look into my eyes, look at me,” Odo talks over him, stern and dominant, and Quark can’t disobey, doesn’t want to.

 

He blinks open to Odo’s face with that strange contemplative look on it that Quark doesn’t know what to do with.  

 

He can’t bear the intensity, but he also can’t bear to look away.

 

Odo slides into him, so maddeningly slow that every inch of Quark is aflame.  His skin is a furnace against Odo’s strange tepid exterior; sweat pours off of him, and any reservations of what Odo’s intentions might be evaporate as Quark’s need for this moment, for satisfaction, consumes him.  

 

“Pound into me so hard that I’m still sore a week from now, so that every day I’ll have no choice to remember what you did.  Make me unable to think about anyone but you, so that I have to disappoint all the lovely fe-males that flirt with me, because I know what you’ll do to me if I let them touch my lobes.  Please, _please_ ,” Quark whines, trying to goad Odo into a more familiar reaction than all this gentleness.

 

Quark’s worries about the inevitable cold aftermath dissipate, and all that matters now is that Odo _hurries the frinx up_.  

 

Finally Odo shifts, sliding into and out of Quark in slow deep thrusts, as if he wants Quark to feel every bit of it, as if he cherishes every sensation Quark gives him.  It’s been years since they began, ages, and Quark has been aroused for so long that every tiny movement sends fireflies sizzling through his nerves, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can take.

 

Odo is in the very center of him, so deep he’s touching his heart, and all of Quark is laid bare.

 

“Faster, harder, please,” Quark babbles, but Odo -- gazing at him in smug amusement -- goes slower with each complaint.

 

“Like this?” Odo says, ever the contrary fascist, pinning Quark’s attempts to buck against him, so that Quark is left panting and twitching around him, desperate for relief.

 

Odo inside him expands, widening slightly, so that Quark is fuller than he’s ever been, and despite Odo’s threats of acting like a normal humanoid, it pays off that he’s a shapeshifter, because this angle probably wouldn’t work otherwise.  

 

Odo’s hand still clutches Quark’s cheek so that Quark has to look into those eyes, boring into him as if he can read his soul, and Odo’s body covers him completely, and all of Quark is consumed by Odo, and there’s not space for anything else but the two of them, not in the entire world and certainly not in this moment.

 

Odo’s insides ooze in a joyous slosh, music to Quark’s ears, and Quark’s veins thrum with Odo’s happiness, he’s never felt so _cherished_ \--

 

And he can’t trust a single second of it.

 

“Tell me I’m an obnoxious thorn in your side.”

 

“I delight in your irritating transgressions,” Odo says, and Quark almost weeps with the relief of that familiar sarcasm.  “The highlight of my day is tracking down your crimes.”

 

“Tell me how disgusting you think I am.”  

 

“You are utterly baffling, as are all humanoids, and stranger than most,” Odo snarks, and then his tone softens into something approaching an alarming sincerity.  “But you’ve always made me feel like a person.”

 

“Tell me I repel you,” Quark begs.

 

“I rarely understand your ludicrous nonsense," Odo cocks his head, pensive as he moves inside him. "But you have a good heart.  You’re worth so much more than you think.”  

 

Quark’s eyes sting with prickling tears, and he’s close, he’s so close, and everything -- the doting warmth in Odo’s face above him as it wobbles like Rigelian jelly, Quark’s overstimulated nerves at the peak of bursting and his heart along with it -- everything is too much, and Quark no longer trusts himself with what he might say to Odo next.

 

“Tell me how much you hate me,” Quark rasps.

 

“I don’t,” Odo whispers, almost too quiet to hear.  “It might be just the opposite.”

 

Parts of Odo melt then resolidify around Quark, his goo inside shushing and whooshing, as if Odo is having as much trouble holding it together as Quark is.  As if Odo is feeling as overwhelmed in the moment as he is.

 

There’s a heat building in the pit of Quark’s core, building and expanding and then --

 

“I don't hate you,” Quark sobs out as Odo pumps into him one last time, his short-circuited nerves overriding any remaining common sense.  “I -- I love you.”

 

Odo dissolves completely, his liquidity oozing over Quark’s writhing body.  Quark, suddenly, is bathed in a golden light of goo, surrounded by a physical manifestation of Odo’s love -- Odo in his natural form thrumming with joy, Odo’s pure bliss coursing over Quark, a gooey wave of Odo-ness linking with his Quark-ness.  

 

Quark -- filled not just with Odo, but also with urgency at the loss of friction -- thrusts wildly into the amorphous mass engulfing him.  And -- at last! sweet blissful relief -- he combines Odo’s goo with his some of his own, a liquid elixir of love.

 

Odo continues swirling and flowing over Quark, happy contentment radiating from him into Quark, emitting satisfied sloshing noises.  As they cling to each other in this bizarre sticky cuddle, Quark crashes down from the high of his orgasm.  

 

He sobs and sobs, more to mix in the gross puddle they’ve created together, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so at peace.

 

\---------------

 

“Did you mean it?”

 

“What?!  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I deny everything.  Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“I distinctly heard you say ‘I lo--’”

 

“Oohhhh, no.  You didn’t hear -- that.  I said… I said ‘olive juice!’  You were so boring I started listing ingredients I need to procure for a human drink Dr. Bashir requested.”

 

“Oh, _really_.”

 

“I don’t know how the juice of salty Terran fruits makes the drink ‘dirty’, but apparently that’s a good thing.”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

“Ask him yourself!  I love pleasing my customers.  And I love profits.”

 

“If I'm so boring, I assume you won’t want a repeat then.”

 

“Uhh, well.  Don’t be so hasty.  Luckily for you, I’m a patient man, and generous with my --”

 

“I love you too.”

 

“Ooh -- oh, well.  Oh.  Okay.”  Quark lets out a shaky breath.

 

Odo harrumphs, an amused grin curling onto his face. “Do you foresee any tawdry encounters with smugglers, outlaws, hustlers--”

 

“I prefer the term ‘business partners.’”

 

“-- or other criminals in your immediate future?”  Odo darts a glance at him, his face unreadable.

 

Quark ponders this for a moment. His recent experiences with Odo have been confusing, though revelatory, and, like all sublime pleasures, left him wanting more.  He's warm and full inside -- like holding a hot cup of millipede juice on a rainy day -- and it's strikingly different from the empty hunger that he’s used to in ostensibly similar situations.  He could do without the rest of it for a while, he reasons.  Possibly for the rest of his life.

 

“Nah,” he replies with an answering smile.

 

And all was well.


End file.
